


bring your body to mine

by trite



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Post-Canon, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:48:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29830713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trite/pseuds/trite
Summary: He enjoyed talking to Hux when it felt like it was just the two of them. The baggage disappeared and opened the door to comforting bad ideas.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	bring your body to mine

The preparations for the burial ceremonies (figurative burial ceremonies. After all, they didn’t actually have bodies) had taken almost two weeks, mostly because it was not as urgent — Poe refused to say _important_ , though he felt that was what their actions implied — as dozens of other things they had to deal with. The actual ceremony, though, had been almost brief and to the point. Like there was an unspoken desire to move toward something more tangible than half-forgotten memories of the people they had lost.

That was a problem. The paralyzing desire to dwell and remember, the acute fear of forgetting, and the crushing guilt of knowing its inevitability. _It'll get better_ became less comforting when you knew which pieces you'd be sacrificing in order to carry on.

Poe felt exhausted as he made his way to his quarters, sliding the door open and only barely refraining from letting himself drop on the bed. Lately he couldn’t sleep despite feeling tired and avoided his bed because he couldn’t handle the expectation of sleep that accompanied it.

He made himself follow his newly self-imposed routine. Showering and changing into sleep clothes — he could even sleep naked if he wanted. There would be no attack or last minute, middle-of-the-night rescue mission to wake him — and carefully drying his hair in a way that most people might consider vain but he considered necessary.

When he got into bed, he found the bone-deep exhaustion from earlier had left him. He was too tired to do something productive, too wired to sleep, too tense to keep staring at the dark ceiling. He had the vague idea that he could be doing some datawork right now, it was not like there was a shortage of it. He refused to bring work back to bed, though. Work would find him anyway; he didn't need to aid it.

There was a knock on the door that jolted him back into his body and for a brief moment, he was happy for the distraction, the promise of something needing his immediate attention.

“What is it?” Poe said when he found Hux on the other side of the threshold.

“I thought, perhaps you would like to— that is, we could—”

Oh, that. “Yeah, get in here.” He wasn’t picky about his distractions.

When staring at the unchanging dark ceiling started to grate on him, Poe went for walks. It served to reassure him that nothing was suddenly falling apart. Most people were asleep but he could always count on one other person to be awake.

It felt weird to say that he liked that about Hux, liked his inability to keep regular sleep hours, but he enjoyed talking to him when it felt like it was just the two of them. The baggage disappeared and opened the door to comforting bad ideas.

Hux settled on top of him on the bed and shifted in his lap as they kissed wetly and hurriedly, the only sounds in the room coming from their breathless panting. Hux moved his lips to his throat, his collarbone, and got one hand between their bodies, pressing his palm firmly over the front of Poe's sleep pants. He pulled back and frowned at Poe.

“Sorry, sorry,” Poe said. He had been enjoying it, but he wasn’t exactly up for it. “Let me—”

“I got it.” Hux traced the elastic of his underwear and reached inside. He closed a hot, sweaty palm around him and stroked him fast and tight. After a few minutes, he said, “am I not—?”

“No, no, it’s not that. I’m tired. Give a minute.” He rubbed his hands over his face, felt Hux move away and settle next to him on the bed. “Hey, let me do you first,” he said, rolling over and reaching for Hux.

Hux sighed when Poe wrapped his lips around his dick and Poe felt an answering sense of relief in himself. He bobbed his head up and down, letting his tongue drag over the underside of his dick. He let himself get lost in the weight of Hux in his mouth, the feel of him stretching his lips, inching toward the back of his throat.

After Hux came, Poe crawled over his body and laid a chaste kiss under his jaw. He rubbed himself against Hux’s hip, letting him feel Poe getting hard. Hux clutched the back of his shirt and turned his head to place a close-lipped kiss against his mouth.

“Let me,” Hux said, turning him until they were side by side on the bed. Their features were mostly obscured by the darkness of the late hour and they let themselves be guided by the touch, warmth, and unintended familiarity.

Hux wrapped one hand around his dick and placed the other one on the small of his back, moved it lower to his ass, and pulled him closer.

Poe snapped his hips forward, chasing the friction of Hux's touch, and felt something consume him and pull him under. It felt bigger and more all-encompassing than his orgasm. He turned his head on the mattress and panted against the sheets, letting the rush of emotions take over as he came, feeling raw and spent.

He panted wetly and tried to swallow the feeling down but felt himself unravel. At the worst possible time and with the worst possible company.

Poe rolled over and stared at the ceiling, felt Hux tense beside him. He dug the heel of his hands into his eyes and sat on the edge of the mattress, turning his back to Hux and feeling unbearably alone in his presence.

“Maybe I should leave now,” said Hux, behind him on the bed, sounding on edge and uncomfortable. Unsurprisingly so.

They had only two ways of interacting when it was just the two of them. Talking while letting the gulf between them remain only in a physical sense, or removing all the space between their bodies until they could only pant against each other.

Poe chuckled weakly and heard it come out almost as a sob. He pressed his palms against his eyes and carded his fingers through his hair, letting his head hang from his shoulders. “Yeah, maybe.”

The bed shifted behind him and Hux’s hand came to rest on his back, under his shirt as he traced the bumps of his spine.

He turned around when he felt the bed shift again. Hux had laid back down on his side, but kept his hand firmly in place, not breaking their faint connection.


End file.
